


The Day Before Tomorrow

by buffyaesthetic



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel Investigations | Team Angel (AtS), Comedy, Comedy of Errors, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyaesthetic/pseuds/buffyaesthetic
Summary: Angel pretends to be Cordelia's husband to hoodwink her now successful ex-boyfriend, and things get a little out of hand when the rest of the Angel Investigations team get involved.Loosely based on the Frasier episode 'The Two Mrs Cranes', but no knowledge of that show needed!Give this a go for some Team Angel chaos.
Relationships: Angel (BtVS)/Cordelia Chase, Charles Gunn/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Cordelia Chase/Devon MacLeish, Winifred "Fred" Burkle/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Kudos: 8





	The Day Before Tomorrow

Ding-dong!  
Cordelia’s doorbell chimed cheerfully. She hurriedly looked at the clock and cursed under her breath. He wasn’t supposed to get here yet. She wasn’t ready! Cordy messed up her hair one final time as she approached the door, adopted the most unattractive scowl in her vast acting repertoire and –  
When she swung it open she was greeted with two faces instead of one.  
“Oh, it’s you.” She said to Gunn and Angel. “… why is it you?”  
“Nice to see you too.” Said Gunn. “You look…”  
“Terrible?” Cordelia offered desperately. “Disgusting? Horrifying? Homeless?”  
“I was going to go with ‘tired’, but now you mention it...”  
“That’s what I was going for.” Cordy huffed. “What are you doing here?” She walked back into her living room and flopped onto her sofa by way of inviting them in. Gunn and Angel exchanged a look before they followed her a little reluctantly.  
“We were in the neighbourhood.” Angel explained. “Patrolling.” He added off Cordy’s look.  
“I thought patrolling was kinda Buffy’s style. Aren’t we more, ‘if you build it, they will come’?”  
“First come first served basis.” Gunn agreed. “I think the word he’s looking for is ‘procrastinating’.”  
“Alright,” Angel admitted with some barely concealed annoyance. “There’s this slime demon Gunn’s agreed to take out for some friends, that’s been squatting under their building for a while…”  
“It’s a two man job.” Gunn added.  
“It’s just one little slime demon. I think we should let it be.” Angel harrumphed.  
“What’s the big hoo-ha about fighting this thing?”  
“When you kill them, well…” Angel started.  
Gunn cut in: “think your smoothie when you leave the lid off the blender. Then imagine the smoothie had been feeding on sewer sludge for fifty years and was literally impossible to get out of your clothes.”  
“Ick.” Cordy wrinkled her nose at the thought.  
“Ick pretty much covers it. But Ange here is being a big baby about helping me out. What happened to helping the helpless?”  
“If you knew how many weeks it takes to clean that stuff out of my hair…” Angel complained.  
Gunn rolled his eyes. “What’s with Cordelia: ‘Dumpster Edition’?”  
He asked her as she stood and began to busy about in the kitchen, clanging around with pots and pans.  
“Oh, I’m having someone round tonight.”  
“Like a date?” Angel asked. “At last!”  
Cordy glared at him for a moment and he sheepishly said, “I didn’t mean… I just meant –“  
“Yeah, yeah, you big dork. It is not a date. The opposite, actually.”  
“A… murder?” Angel suggested.  
Cordy ignored him. “I have this ex coming round. From Sunnydale. I wanted to let him down easy, you know, so at the end I told him if we were still free in four years we could try it again.”  
“I’m guessing you really wanna put this guy off.” Gunn deduces.  
“Bingo. He was so obsessed with his band, which was going all of nowhere. He was so clingy, and really not the sharpest stake in the drawer, if you catch my drift. I don’t think I could go back to being with someone like that.”

Ding-dong! Sang out the door again.  
“That’s probably him.” Fussed Cordelia. She rocketed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands down her front. “No, don’t get up guys, I can incorporate you into warding him off.”  
“We’re not that bad, are we?” Angel said to Gunn in a low voice as the door swung open.  
“Good evening Cordelia.” Came a very British, very familiar voice. “You look –“  
“Why does everyone feel the need to tell me how I look?” She demanded. “I’m just trying to send out no signals whatsoever.” She walked back into the living room. Wesley followed, shutting the door.  
“Well, mission accompli- hey!” Cordelia had been struck by inspiration as she attempted to wrestle Wesley’s jumper off him. “get… off… ha!” he wriggled out of the jumper and she held it up triumphantly before slipping it over her head. It was decidedly long, chunky, and hand-knitted with a grey pattern completely unsuitable for springtime LA.  
“Now I’ve achieved no signals!” she beamed. Wesley looked around with a slighty hurt and bewildered expression.  
"I always thought that sweater was rather dashing." Wesley mumbled. Gunn gave him an eyebrow-raised look.  
“She’s having an anti-date.” Angel explained rather unhelpfully.  
“Ah.” Wesley responded. “I thought you were just having a party without me.”  
“Wes, would you help Gunn to take out a slime demon? I could give you a bonus.” Angel said hopefully.  
“An Arrashmarrian slime demon?” Angel nodded. “Not on your nelly.” Wesley assured him. “I suppose the bomb site is part of the anti-date ensemble too?” He asked, carefully removing a couple of the magazines strewn across the sofa to make space to sit down.  
“I hadn’t started on the apartment yet!” Cordelia yelled from the kitchen.  
“Oh. Well, Cordelia, I’m actually here to pick up some books I left a few weeks ago. I think I’ve on the verge of translating –“  
“In the bedroom! Translate away!” Cordelia shooed as she kicked the oven open and shoved in a roasting tray. “twenty minutes… that should give it plenty of time to burn slightly…” she said to herself as she set the timer.  
“I don’t think you’ll have to try too hard on the food.” Gunn said quietly.  
“What?” Cordy called.  
“Nothing!” 

Ding-dong! The doorbell chimed once again.  
“This has to be him!” Cordy panicked.  
“I think we should leave them be.” Angel said, but Cordelia was already at the door. As she took a deep breath in preparation to open it, Angel dragged Gunn out of the living room and out of sight. Cordelia wrenched the door open to reveal her ex-boyfriend, looking out of place and sweaty in a suit and tie.  
“Devon!” She said, smiling with relief. “Nice to see you!”  
“You too, Cordy.” He said. “You look… cosy.” He gestured to her (Wesley’s) sweater with a small smile as he handed her a bunch of flowers. “You haven’t changed a bit.”  
“Thank you! I think. Come in.” She stepped aside and he gingerly entered.  
“Wow, nice place.” Devon admired. “You never could keep too tidy, though.”  
“Never cared enough to,” Cordy agreed.  
“My God, that’s hot.” Devon blurted out. Then he grimaced. “I’m sorry Cor. I really meant to leave my confession of undying love to you until after we ate.” She gave a short, awkward laugh at his deadly serious puppy dog eyes, a very unusual look on the perpetually uninterested boy she knew in high school, and one which made her beyond uncomfortable.  
“Um, Devon, there’s actually someone I’d like you to meet.” Cordelia blurted as a plan formulated in her head. “Angel, dearest!” She yelled. Then, a mite colder: “ANGEL!”  
“Yeah?” The black-clad vampire responded as he appeared at the doorway. Cordy grabbed his arm and dragged him in.  
“Devon’s here!” She said brightly. “Devon, this is Angel. My husband.”  
Devon looked taken aback. “You don’t say!”  
“It didn’t seem right to tell you over the phone.” Cordy added apologetically.  
“Congratulations! That’s great news, Mrs..”  
“Mrs Angel.” Cordy supplied. “Yeah, um… he goes by his surname. His first name is actually…" She looked around wildly for ideas. "Dennis.”  
“but I really prefer An-“  
“Dennis, man, how long you been married?” Devon thumped him on the back with his question.  
“Uhm, six months.” Angel responded. He still had a slightly amused expression which said he didn’t quite know why he was going along with the whole charade.  
“You must still be in that gooey honeymoon phase, huh.”  
“Sickening, really!” Cordy chirped. “Angel, dear, can you come help me in the kitchen?”  
“Okay…” He was being dragged before he could even finish the word, leaving Devon to gaze out of the window and inspect the piles of junk strewn around the room. 

Angel tore himself free once they were safely in the bright light of the kitchen.  
“Don’t be so obvious.” Cordelia hissed as she picked up her knife and continues frantic chopping, adding the vegetables to the sauce bubbling on the stove.  
“Well, some of us aren’t professional actors."  
She looked him dead in the eyes. "You're a private investigator, dumbass. Undercover is pretty much part of the job description."  
"Remind me why I’m doing this again?” The slightly attacked-feeling Angel asked.  
"Girl with a knife here? Hello?" She waved it around a bit for proof. Angel just continued to look at her, deadpan. Cordelia sighed and closed her eyes, stopping her chopping for a moment. “I’ll take that slime demon off your hands? With Gunn. Obviously.”  
Angel smiled. “Why didn't you just say so, honey?” he went striding back out into the living room.  
“Can I get ya a beer, buddy?” Cordy heard him ask in a surprisingly easy tone.  
“Well, he’s dealt with.” She said to herself as she began to measure out spaghetti. She’d be cooking for more people than she’d previously planned.  
“Dennis!” She whisper-yelled. “Keep an eye on the sauce!” No response. She added, “Please? I’ll watch Friends with you later.” The lid on the saucepan hovered for a second and then settled gently back down, as though Dennis was peeking in to see how it was doing. “Great.” She said and as she walked out, “Just turn it down if it gets too… bubbly.” Dennis probably knew more about cooking than she did, anyway.

Angel was in full swing, standing in front of the large window in the living room, beer in hand. “And then I got on one knee and I asked her to be mine forever. The crowd were all cheering, it was such a touching moment. Really.” He had a slightly New-York or at least unfamiliar twang to his accent that often came out to play when he was undercover. Devon did not look enthused.  
“That’s quite the story.” He said.  
“Well, Cordy’s quite the girl.” Angel looked past Devon and gave her his best doe-eyes. She mouthed 'turn it down' and mimed turning a dial. "Best wife I could ask for." Cordy had to give it to him, his acting was pretty convincing.  
“Yes, my love. Ever the romantic.” Cordy agreed, joining them. “So, Devon, tell me how life’s been since Sunnydale.”  
“Pretty good, actually. I mean I miss seeing you, I miss… everyone, and I don’t have much time for visits because of the band.”  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. The same old Devon.  
“Ever since we took off, it’s been, like insane. We’ve just signed this record deal. That’s why I’m in LA, actually. You know, we’ve just got back from our world tour, we’ve got a couple more shows in April, and then we settle here a while to write our new stuff.”  
Cordelia was still processing, stunned. “Dingoes… took off?”  
“Yeah man. I’ve got these new digs on the other side of town – this house with a pool, but nothing too fancy, I’m just getting started on the LA way of life, you know?”  
“A swimming pool?” Cordy repeated in a little voice.  
“That’s cool, Devon.” Angel weighed in. “Me and Cordelia are just getting used to it too, settling in, you know how marriage –“  
“Husband, go check on the sauce.” Cordy interrupted, now gazing at Devon. “So tell me more about this newfound fame?” she smiled, batting her eyelashes. Devon was happy to oblige as Angel skulked off to the kitchen like a kicked puppy.

The sauce was bubbling away happily and Angel started boiling the kettle for the spaghetti. He stirred absent-mindedly as he wondered about taking out whatever was overcooking in the oven. “Nah.” He muttered. “Let it burn.” Dennis turned up the heat slightly in agreement. It’s not like Angel would be able to taste it anyway.  
Wesley strolled into the living room, interrupting Cordelia mid-giggle. “Cordelia, one of my books appears to be missing.”  
“Wesley!” She leapt up like a startled cat. “This is Devon. Devon, this is Wesley, he’s my… cousin.”  
“I’m your…” Wesley started, trying to catch up.  
Cordy cut him off. “Oh, he was just dumped, he’s staying here, with - with us for a while. Yeah, you know, they had a pretty steady relationship going and then bam! Wes here makes one tiny mistake and… and Fred” Cordy was loving building her story “just kicks him out. That’s people, huh?” Cordelia was grinning madly at her own improvisational skills.  
“I’m sorry to hear that, man.” Devon offered.  
“I’m, um… recovering.” Wesley responded, mulling over the situation in his head.  
“Wes, go help my hubby in the kitchen, would ya? Make sure he hasn’t chopped off any fingers.” Cordelia shoved him through the door. 

He stumbled and knocked over some pots and pans on the counter for good measure.  
“I’m her husband.” Angel offered helpfully. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed.  
“Oh? I seem to have missed that joyous development.”  
“I’m pretending to be her husband. To put this Devon guy off.” Angel clarified.  
“I see.” Wesley’s brow furrowed in a way which suggested the opposite. Cordelia appeared in the doorway.  
“Wesley, if you go along with this, there’s a shiny book of prophecies in it for ya.” Cordy offered a ‘keep up the good work’ thumbs up and disappeared again.  
“Holding my books hostage hardly seems fair.” Wesley complained half-heartedly. “Why did she have to make up a story for me, anyway? I couldn’t have been a passing friend?”  
“Maybe the dorky British cousin is more convincing. Besides, why would you be here at this time of night?”  
“Book retrieving purposes.” Wesley murmured in response. Cordelia’s flirtatious laugh tittered through the wall.  
“We should get out there.” Angel said. “I think my wife’s getting pretty friendly with that guy.”  
“I’d better warn Gunn to stay away.” Wesley decided. He was not anxious to be subject to an onslaught of questions he couldn’t answer. "But... she's not actually your wife, you know."  
"I know!" Angel insisted. "But did you SEE that guy?" He gave a short huff of a laugh. "He doesn't know her. He's ridiculous."  
"As long as you're not letting your personal affections cloud -"  
"Are you kidding? I just want what's best for her."  
"All I'm saying is, if you think she's changed her mind about your fake marriage and you insist on keeping up this fallacy she might not be best pleased." Wesley explained.  
"Sometimes I have to sacrifice people's opinions of me to protect them."  
Wesley gave him a knowing look before relenting, saying, "Once more unto the breach, then."  
Angel nodded. As they both left, Dennis quietly turned down the spaghetti, stirred the sauce and turned off the timer for the oven.

Cordelia was giggling with Devon in a low voice as Angel slid down next to her.  
“What are you two laughing about?” He asked with a faux friendly smile as he awkwardly put his arm around Cordelia’s shoulders in a protective gesture.  
Wesley slipped past. He found Gunn in Cordelia’s bedroom, flicking through one of her books on Classic Hollywood.  
“Gunn, I wouldn’t advise going out there until dinner is over. There’s a situation.” He stood awkwardly in the doorway.  
Gunn snapped the book shut excitedly. “Something I can fight?”  
“Not quite. Cordelia’s got Angel pretending to be her husband and me as her recently dumped cousin living with them.” Wesley explained rather miserably.  
“You kidding?" Gunn was gleeful. "There is no way I am missing out on this!”  
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. She’d doubtless give you a far-fetched story too.” Gunn looked him up and down as if to dispute the far-fechedness before replying,  
“That’s half the fun.”  
“This sort of thing requires improvisation, quick thinking…”  
“Oh yeah, two skills which I never had to use as a secret vampire hunter roaming the streets of LA.” Gunn rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, Cordelia’s lame cousin.” 

Lounging on her sofa between Devon and Angel, Cordelia spotted Wes and Gunn entering and shot a deadly glare at Wesley. Devon looked up from his conversation with Angel and saw them too. "Devon. This is..."  
“Hey, man.” Gunn stuck out his hand to shake Devon’s, who stood up to oblige. “I’m Wesley’s boyfriend.”  
“You are?” Wesley let out a slightly choked cough then, “you are.” His knees were wobbly so he sat into the armchair behind him. Hard.  
“oh! You’re Fred!” Devon supplied.  
Wesley was still struggling to formulate a word. Gunn rolled with it, saying “Sure. You've heard about me.”  
“But I thought you left him?”  
“Oh, that didn’t last long. Did it, babe.” He said down to Wesley, grabbing his shoulder with an assuring hand. “But there were some problems with our old place, so here we are.” He kept his charming smile going and decided to diffuse further questions by getting there first. “Hey man, what do you do for a living?”  
“Uh, I have this band. Dingoes ate my baby. You might have heard of us.”  
“Holy shit, that’s so cool. You’re, what, famous?”  
“In some circles.” Devon took a smug sip from his beer. “What about you?”  
“Oh, me? Well, I’m not famous! I’m just a doctor. Well, a neurosurgeon. Yeah, I’m pretty young – I guess it’s a gift. Blessing and a curse, man.”  
“Wow, Cordelia, you got any more surprise roommates to spring on me?” Devon asked.  
She laughed nervously. “Nope, not last time I counted…” Dennis flicked off the lights in protest. “Unless you count the temperamental electrics.” She added, going to turn them back on.  
“Gunn, dude, tell me more about this doctor thing.” Devon was hooked.  
“It’s insane. I’m saving lives every day but it’s just part of the gig, you know? They call me ‘The Rock’ because of my steady hands.”  
“That’s mind-blowing, dude.” Devon was impressed.  
“Yeah. Although now I come to think of it, they might call me that because of that time I saved Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson after that accident. That’s working in LA, am I right?”  
Wesley watched Gunn and Devon’s exchange with his mouth agape, while Angel watched with amusement. Cordy mumbled something about checking on the food and left Gunn listing all the celebrities he’d saved (“Angelina Jolie, Britney Spears, Tom Cruise, that Star Wars guy…”).  
Cordy said thank you to invisible Dennis, who’d drained the pasta, and started grabbing out plates – she’d be cooking for more people than she’d planned tonight. She dug up an oven mitt and retrieved the blackened vegetables from the oven, batting away the smoke produced with her tea towel. 

Ding-dong! The door sang out mockingly. Cordelia groaned in frustration, resting her head against the counter for a second.  
In the other room, Wesley called out, “Who is it?”  
“It’s me!” came the familiar southern female voice.  
“Well, what do you know!” Gunn’s voice sounded like he was enjoying this way too much. “We have a visitor!” Wesley reluctantly opened the door.  
“Wes! What are you –“ Fred began in a surprised tone. Wesley cut her off immediately by kissing her. Her eyes were wide with shock and she made a ‘hmmph!” sound. His hands went to her head, knotting his fingers in locks of her hair as they passionately kissed. When he finally broke away, he exclaimed, “Darling! You’ve come back for me!”  
“What was that for?” She sounded very concerned and very breathless.  
Gunn caught a whiff of Wesley’s intention and sprung up too, hamming up the dramatics. “You can’t steal him away from me again, uhhhh, Gunn, so don’t even try.”  
“Seeing that, I’d say she already has.” Angel weighed in, bemused.  
“Devon, this is Char…lotte Gunn, the woman who tempted me out of my relationship with G- Fred.” Wesley explained, keeping his eyes locked on the real Fred for dramatic effect. NOT because of the way she was wearing her hair that made him want to run his hands through it again. Gunn marched over to Wesley and slapped him squarely across the jaw. Reeling, Wesley felt the burning red mark on the side of his face and opened his mouth in exaggerated shock.  
“I thought what we had was real!” Gunn yelled in an almost tearful tone. “I wasn’t just warming your bed until you got bored and went back to your stupid sidepiece!”  
“You have no right to call her that!” Wesley thundered, joining in with the game. “she’s the one I truly love!”  
Devon gasped slightly. Cordy could imagine Dennis munching on ghostly popcorn and enjoying the drama, too.  
“This is a spell, isn’t it.” Fred said, sounding disappointed.  
Cordelia’s laugh was high-pitched and too loud. “Silly Charlie, with those superstitions. There's no such thing as spells. Ridiculous.” She added.  
“Drugs, then?” Fred was puzzling it out.  
Cordy said pointedly to Angel, “Angie, dearest, why don’t you give Devon the grand tour? I’m sure he’d love a look around.”  
Angel cottoned on and said. “Oh. Sure.” He led Devon out, who followed reluctantly as though he wanted to carry on watching the drama.

Once they were safely out of earshot and Cordelia could hear Angel loudly talking about her towels, Gunn filled Fred in on the situation. “Ooooh.” She responded. “’Sitcom farce escalated to epic proportions by exponential misunderstandings’ was gonna be my next guess!”  
“Sorry about the kissing.” Wesley said sheepishly. “Desperate times, you know.”  
Fred avoided his gaze, blushing slightly. “That’s alright. I thought you were just pleased to see me.” She giggled.  
“And we’re back in the living room!” Cordelia announced with a flourish. She touched Devon’s arm a tad too familiarly for Angel’s liking.  
“Is dinner ready?” He asked, perturbed. 

As they all sat down to their meal – rather crowded around Cordy’s modestly sized dining table – Gunn went back to winning Devon over, and Cordelia to flirting. Although it occurred to none of the others, Devon couldn’t help but wonder why the Texan girl was even staying for the meal. Maybe Wesley had insisted on it, he thought. He seemed quite desperate to be physically close to the woman, brushing past her at every opportunity, quite ignoring his actual boyfriend. Devon mused, as he watched the girl’s uncontrollable blushing smile, that it would probably be better for her to take him back after all.  
“Have you heard from Oz at all since Sunnydale, Cordy?” Devon asked her.  
“Sure, he visited here once. I think he’s in Tibet now, finding his inner peace or something.” Cordy responded flippantly.  
“Dope.” Said Devon.  
“You ever been to Tibet, Devon?” Fred asked timidly from across the table.  
“Just once. It was pretty chill, had some really beautiful mountains and shit. Don’t think we’ll be taking the band there again though – not many people to play for unless yaks start buying tickets.”  
“Maybe you can take me there one day.” Cordelia responded as charmingly as she could manage. She began to take a sip from her wine.  
“You really shouldn’t...” Angel cut in.  
“Shouldn’t what? Go to Tibet?” Cordy asked coldly.  
“No, you shouldn’t drink, honey. Think about the baby.” 

On that bombshell, there was a moment of silence.  
“Congratulations, guys! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Devon said.  
Cordelia forced a slow smile. “Oh, we don’t like to mention it around my cousin.” She explained. “Sore point. He’s infertile.”  
Wesley looked offended. “Let’s not bring my sperm into this!”  
“We’re so excited for you though, Cordy!” Fred supplied, ever trying to be friendly, while not succeeding in seeming sincere.  
Gunn's smile was splitting his face open as he said, "We just can't wait for the little tyke to start ruining their domestic bliss."

“Can I use the restroom?” Devon asked, if only to break the awkward lull in their conversation.  
“Sure, it’s right through there.” Cordy gestured.  
As soon as he was out of the door, they broke into bickering.  
“Infertile? That was uncalled for.”  
“Yeah, man, but you gotta give it to her, it was hilarious –“  
Cordelia rounded on Angel. “What the hell was that for?”  
“I thought you wanted me to put him off!” Angel argued.  
“You know full well that’s not what I want now, Angel!”  
“What, now he’s rich you’re interested again? You said yourself he was self-absorbed, that you 'couldn’t be with someone like that again' –“  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, will you? There are more important things –“  
“Than personality?” Fred inputted, trying to be the voice of reason.  
“Yes! I could’ve been going on world tours, swimming in my own pool!" Cordelia was mid-yell as she stood, her chair scraping back with a harsh noise. "How the hell am I supposed to get rid of this goddamn baby?!”  
There was silence for a few moments and Cordelia sensed everyone’s eyes looking behind her. She turned slowly around to see Devon, standing in the doorway, shocked at the sentence he’d just heard.

“Devon.” She started. “It isn’t what it looks –“  
“I’ve had enough of this.” Devon announced as he took a small step towards the table. “This is the most fucked up evening I’ve had in my life. And I’ve lived in Sunnydale for eighteen years!”  
The group at the table exchanged sheepish glances.  
“Devon, you don’t get it. We’ve been lying the entire time! We aren’t the terrible people we say we are!” Cordy cried with a misguided brightness and an air of wrapping up an argument. Fred winced.  
“Oh, shut up for a minute, Cor." Cordelia, reprimanded, sat back down. Devon continued, "You’ve all acted fucking awful tonight. You, flirting with me shamelessly, right in front of your husband, and with a bun in the oven!” Angel gave a smug smile, which didn’t pass Devon by. “You’re no better, acting like a jealous asshole the whole evening. And, to be honest, I don’t see what’s so great about your towels anyway.” He turned to the others. “Charlie, you can’t just turn up and expect him to come back to you! What are you doing having an affair with an unavailable man anyway? You seem like such a nice girl!” He pointed an accusing finger at Wesley next. “And you! Treating Fred like trash, switching to your hussy girlfriend whenever it suits you. Kissing her right in front of him! Just because you’re infertile you can’t fuck whoever you want, you English bastard.” Wesley looked at his lap, blushing. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, the way you’ve acted tonight. How the four of you became friends with that sweet, gay neurosurgeon, I’ll never know.”  
And with that, he grabbed his jacket from the sofa and fled from the apartment, door slamming behind him.  
The five friends looked at each other across the pile of dirty dishes on the table. Fred stifled a smile. Wesley snorted. Then none of them could control their laughter, and they dissolved into cackles and hoots. Tears were streaming down Cordelia's face. Gunn banged against the table with his fist, trying to regain control. Even Angel was laughing, his eyes screwed up, a rare and beautiful sight. Eventually, Angel was able to straighten his face to a small smile and regain his composure. The other four followed, with sighs of content, as Dennis began to clear away some of the plates.  
"Want to stay here and watch Friends all night? Dennis is addicted." Cordy asked them at the reminder of her ever-present roommate. He needed a thank-you.  
"OOooh, yes please!" Fred grinned. "It's my favourite."  
Seeing her childlike delight, Wesley smiled too. "That doesn't sound like a terrible plan."  
Gunn said, “Who’s coming to help me with that slime demon problem?”  
Angel looked around at his family and smiled. "We can talk about it tomorrow.”


End file.
